Poe allowed himself one brief moment to imagine himself with Finn, to imagine what could be. Then, he let that moment go. Bright, young, future-lawyers don't deserve to be weighed down by broken ex-pilots turned bakers with issues a mile long.
And that was all right.
Because Poe wasn't lonely.
(aka: the one with the bakery)
Poe Dameron wasn't lonely.
Why would he be? He had a solid job, great friends, and even a cute little corgi to cuddle up to on cold nights.
Besides, New York is a big city. Who could be lonely in a city of 8 million people?
The point is: he wasn't lonely. But there were people who seemed to think otherwise.
So what if Poe hadn't had a serious relationship in years? That didn't mean he was unhappy. A little sexually frustrated, maybe, but he was content. Truly.
And if sometimes he looked at the couples passing by with a pang in his chest and longing in his eyes, then that was his business.
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Poe's alarm went off at 5:00, just as it did every day. The routine was the same: get up, shower, make coffee, walk BB, then open the bakery below his apartment.
He unlocked the padlock, walked into the familiar parlor, and headed to the back to get started on the day's bakes.
The bakery was small, but cozy, with mismatched tables and armchairs spread sporadically throughout the front parlor. There was a small bookshelf in the corner, filled with some of Poe's old favorites, in case anyone came in just to relax and get away. At the counter, there was an old register, some stools, and a large display case under a chalkboard, on which Poe wrote the menu for the day.
He'd inherited the bakery from his father, who'd named it Bey's Bakes, after Poe's late mother. Kes Dameron had bought the building when Poe was 9, just after his mother had died. His mother had always loved his father's baking and her smile when she came home to the sight of her son and husband covered in flour, holding her favorite pie, was something Poe would never forget.
When Poe had been honorably discharged from the Air Force seven years ago, he hadn't known what to do with himself. He'd been drifting, trying to find a purpose after leaving the military, struggling to cope with the after effects of fighting in a harsh and brutal war. When his father had gotten sick, Poe took it upon himself to run the bakery in his stead, until Pa was strong enough to get back on his feet. But Pa hadn't recovered, and soon enough Poe found himself with newfound responsibilities, determined to make his father proud, and keep his business thriving.
There was nothing that Poe loved more than flying. Nothing. But here, in the small backroom of his little bakery, he felt safe. He felt at home.
Poe finished his first batch of pies and put them into the ovens. He strode to the storefront and climbed up on his stool to write the menu for the day. Very carefully, with purpose, he wrote: Shara's Homemade Peach Cobbler.
Poe smiled. Happy birthday, Ma.
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Normally, Poe enjoyed having the first shift of the day. For the first couple hours, he only had a dozen or so customers, usually suits who got up as the ass-crack of dawn to go to a corporate job they hated. He'd only found out a few months ago that most of his early morning customers worked at First Order, a law firm a few blocks away. From what he could gather, the boss was a nightmare, the hours were absurd, and vacation days were few and far between. Every couple of weeks, someone would come in around 6 o'clock, looking dejected and disheveled, with a cardboard box filled with office supplies. Poe made sure to take the time to personally bring them some hot chocolate and a cupcake, on the house. Getting fired sucked.
